


the ground swallows you up

by sunflower_8



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, M/M, Melancholy, Self-Hatred, ambiguous ending, oh wait that's my brand, this is his birthday fic, why did i make it sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-11-23 03:16:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20885237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunflower_8/pseuds/sunflower_8
Summary: it's eleven o'clock





	the ground swallows you up

it’s eleven o’clock.

rantaro amami sits outside his house as if he’s lost the keys to go inside, or maybe he’s had a fight. he hasn’t. he’s just sitting outside. not solely for the sake of sitting outside, but it’s for no significant reason. just melancholy thinking and waiting for an uber to take him to an airport--  _ he hasn’t bought a ticket _ \-- and by the end of today he should be halfway across the world or really close by, wherever he can go in just a day. 

he has no destination, and that makes him feel kind of guilty, because this isn’t for pleasure. he isn’t traveling, not really, it isn’t vacation. it’s partly because he needs to find the sisters that he’s lost around the world, and partly because he has some sick fascination, some curious dread, some investigative loathing associated with moving somewhere. his friend (friend?) korekiyo told him once that humans had never evolved to be still, and he probably meant to tell that to kaito, rantaro’s other friend (friend?) because kaito has been slacking off on training and korekiyo is the best at scolding someone indirectly. even though the sentiment wasn’t directed at him, rantaro wonders if the immobility that’s long since bled out of his blood was the reason he loves traveling.

(no, he doesn’t love traveling; he  _ needs _ it)

maybe it’s a matter of obsession. maybe he needs to travel because he knows all too well that he can’t be still, and now that he has no more sisters to lose, there’s no need to worry about danger or risk.

(because rantaro doesn’t care for himself, not really)

he watches meticulously for every car that passes, waiting for one that resembles his uber, and he curses his annoyance at the person who manages to operate in cars and yet not get lost.

(how does rantaro hate both himself and everything he isn’t)

he adjusts his bag, the one that smells like artificial bubblegum and cough syrup and peach sparkling water. it’s disgusting, cloying. the bag is light on his shoulders, but it feels so heavy at the same time as if he’s always meant to be tormented by contradictions. he doesn’t take off the bag, even though he’s sitting down, because the ground will have to carry it and the ground has never lost anybody before, now has it? the ground has never swallowed people up. the ground has never-

“hey.” rantaro shivers imperceivably but forces a smile as his boyfriend (boyfriend?) shuichi walks to sit beside him. shuichi is a detective, and so he knows exactly why rantaro’s out here. the small, sad smile (almost a grimace) is the indicator that shuichi has deduced the reasons why rantaro must do this before the adventurer even knew. 

“hey.”

“how are you?”

“good.”

“mm.” the replying hum is knowing of rantaro’s lie. “it’s your birthday, isn’t it?”

“it’s october third.”

“...which is your birthday?”

rantaro sighs, looking up at the sky. “i guess so.”

a hand on his shoulder, a worried gaze. “are you thinking about etsuko?”

_ a small girl with straight red hair, because dad had another fucking affair. she holds onto rantaro’s hand and happily skips, speaking cheerfully about rantaro’s birthday and everything they will do for it. they wade through a thick crowd, heading back to the store where their dad and siblings are waiting. rantaro has a bag in his right hand and his sister’s hand in his left, and it’s apparent which one matters more, because rantaro only realizes he’s lost his sister when he’s finally out of the crowd. the bag is tight in his hand. _

_ his father tells him later that it’s a lost cause, that the city was known for crime and that the girl is probably dead. her mother wails and begs for rantaro’s father to send forth rescue efforts, but after a few months he stops. they divorce, and his father has sex with another woman weeks later, and she’s pregnant. another girl, he remarks. _

_ rantaro will never forget the cold yet sympathetic look, one that was desperately trying to not think of his new daughter as a replacement. _

_ rantaro is out travelling when the girl, sora, is born.  _

<strike> _ he lost her a few years later _ </strike>

“yeah.”

“ah.” shuichi pauses. “are you going to travel again?” shuichi asks calmly.

rantaro scoffs. “i have to.”

“you deserve a break.”

“there’s a girl out there cursing my name because she lost her family today.”

“there’s a girl out there wishing you happy birthday,” shuichi retorts.

“only because it’s a year closer to my death.” rantaro looks at his boyfriend with an empty expression. “ten years ago might have been hers.”

“rantaro.” shuichi grips his hand suddenly and tightly. rantaro sighs when his boyfriend kisses the corner of his mouth, but shuichi doesn’t relax and he doesn’t either. “you can go travelling on monday. you can travel all of next week if you want. but give yourself today. let me invite over mukuro and kaede and, well, whoever else you want. all of your friends, or none of them. whatever you want, but please don’t fly to some distant, dangerous country and come back to me with a stab wound and ‘i’m a failure.’” shuichi takes a shaky breath in. “you aren’t. you aren’t a failure. i’m not a failure. neither of us are failures, so can we just have a day dedicated to you?”

rantaro looks at the grass, then he looks at the sky, and then he looks at his boyfriend. pleading hazel eyes and raven black eyelashes, long and ticklish. he’s right. shuichi’s always right. 

rantaro nods.

“what do you want to do?”

he thinks hard for a moment. “can we stay here? please?”

“of course.”

shuichi’s breath ghosts rantaro’s neck as he hugs him, and he whispers. “next time we travel, take me with you.”

_ the ground will swallow you up. _

_ the uber will get lost. _

_ i have more to lose. _

_ don’t leave me. _

“yeah.”

and they stare up at the sky. 

**Author's Note:**

> happy birthday, rantaro amami. ily
> 
> okay so why i decided to make a really depressing fic for his birthday, i'm not that sure. it just happened.
> 
> but ayy it's october and i have too many fic ideas for this month. i'm probably going to miss kyoko's birthday but. eh. i might post more. idk.
> 
> comments are appreciated. 
> 
> also i think i used a word in this fic that doesn't actually exist. oh well.


End file.
